


I would kill to be the cold, tracing your body and shaking your bones.

by proboning



Series: I am what you need when you can't find it somewhere else. [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, this contains porn, yayyy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proboning/pseuds/proboning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpt: "“Derek.” Stiles mumbles, voice strained, but eyes stubbornly closed, with a flush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down his long neck to disappear under his collar. "</p><p>I'm not too sure this should be explicit or mature... there's sex buuuut, I went with the safe option in explicit. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I would kill to be the cold, tracing your body and shaking your bones.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, so beware of typos!  
> More notes wait for you at the end!

*****

“Derek.” Stiles mumbles, voice strained, but eyes stubbornly closed, with a flush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down his long neck to disappear under his collar. 

Derek understands, he _really_ does. But he refuses to rush this, the sex, the bonding. It wouldn’t be fair to Stiles; and he _really_ needs Stiles to enjoy this. He would feel horrible to take this huge thing from Stiles, someone who has already been abused and hurt enough, and be the only one to get any pleasure from it. It’s not something that is even an option.

So he’s taking it slow. Making _them_ take it slow. Despite the fact he can feel Stiles hard against his hip, and Derek himself is pushing tight against his own jeans, he won’t speed up; continues to kiss Stiles slowly, sweet and deep, the way they’ve done a few times before. Always getting so far, where Stiles is shuddering and so close to coming, but Derek always makes himself stop, slows the kissing further until they’re both warm and happy, but _aching_ for it.

Derek realizes he’s been staring at Stiles’s wet and red mouth for too long when Stiles opens it to speak again, but Derek shushes him, choosing to kiss him quiet before he can ask Derek what’s wrong. Stiles is still so fragile, so unsure of himself and what he is, what he _does_ , to Derek, that every time Derek pauses for more than a few seconds, he squirms and begins to doubt the whole situation.

Nimble fingers twist their way into the fabric of Derek’s shirt, tugging spastically, like Stiles wants it off, but is too shy or doesn’t know how to say it. “Stiles,” Derek pulls away from Stiles’s lips, dragging his teeth gently over Stiles’s jaw instead. “What do you want. What’s wrong?”

Stiles makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his eyes slip open for a brief moment, but fall shut again like he was only opening them to make sure Derek was still there. “I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know.” His voice is a wrecked, broken sound that has Derek keening inside his mind.

Derek slips in for another quick kiss, dropping down to bite at Stiles’s neck, where he asks, voice muffled, “Do you want me to take my shirt off?” He feels Stiles nod, a tremble making its way through Stiles’s body. “Okay.” He whispers, pulling back. “Okay.” He pulls the fabric over his head, tossing it over the side of the bed.

He looks back to Stiles, finding his eyes open and tracking Derek’s chest, down to his abs and landing at the obvious bulge in his jeans. Stiles swallows thickly, eyes fixated on Derek through his pants. Derek taps his fingers under Stiles’s chin, effectively getting Stiles’s eyes to meet his own. He slips his fingers under the hem of Stiles’s t-shirt, trailing his fingertips up Stiles’s sides and back to the waist of his jeans. “I’m gonna take this off, okay?”

Stiles swallows heavily again, eyes falling down to his own t-shirt clad stomach; he nods, though. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Derek rids Stiles of his plaid over-shirt and ridiculous t-shirt, looking down to find Stiles’s blushing even darker, his eyes closed tight again. He shouldn’t, he should be reassuring Stiles that it’s fine and that he’s perfect, but Derek can’t help but let himself look, for just a second. 

Stiles has always been slim, but he’s never been weak or too skinny. He’s lean and sinewy, all softly defined muscle and quiet strength. Skin always pale and soft ( _so_ soft) mottled with dozens of freckles and little moles. He’s perfect, painfully beautiful, and he can’t even see it.

Derek hears himself make a small whimpering sound, involuntary but completely validated; and he can’t help but lick a path from the top of Stiles’s jeans, dip into his bellybutton, and all the way up under his chin. Stiles gasps quietly at the first touch of Derek’s tongue, his muscles jumping deliciously under Derek’s mouth. He pulls off when he runs out of skin, but darts back in, nuzzling under Stiles’s ear, murmuring endearments as he nips and licks at all the flushed skin he can reach.

Stiles is letting out small, breathy keens every time Derek licks or bites a new patch of skin, his back arching gracefully off the bed at every sensitive area Derek discovers. Derek is almost drunk off of it; off of Stiles’s scent and the sounds he’s making, the way he moves, everything. It’s mesmerizing, completely entrancing him.

“Stiles,” Derek feels like he should be embarrassed by how his voice is a rough mess, but he can’t bring himself to truly care. Perhaps Stiles will take it as it is, and realize how utterly beautiful and destructive he is to people, to _Derek_. “Stiles I have to-” He stops, letting the tugging he’s doing at Stiles’s jeans do the talking.

Stiles eyes slide open, pupils blown in the dim room, a tiny sliver of molasses coloured irises staring back at Derek. Stiles takes sharp, shallow breaths and jerks down to unbutton his jeans. His fingers stumbling but eventually succeeding and he shoves at the cloth, making a frustrated whimpering sound when they only go so far.

Derek feels a rumble in his chest and he carefully bats Stiles’s hands away, tugging sharply at the tight material until they slide down Stiles’s thighs and past his calves to finally slip off his feet. Immediately Derek starts touching, running careful hands outside Stiles’s thighs as he bends down to drop kisses onto Stiles’s abdomen.

He trails light fingers around the straining material of Stiles’s boxers; purposefully not directly touching in case Stiles isn’t ready for that, and, to be honest, as a bit of a tease. Stiles keens quietly, hips twitching upwards into Derek’s fingers. Derek grins, doing it again, and again, watching as Stiles arches up every time, breaths coming shorter and heavier. Stiles eventually lets out a frustrated groan, kicking at Derek’s hip a few times and throwing his arm over his eyes. “Take off your pants. Why are you still in pants? No more teasing.”

Derek’s fingers jerk at the strained edge to Stiles’s voice, and at the pseudo-command for him to rid himself of his jeans. He and Stiles are both alphas, neither of them are higher rank than the other, Stiles just tends to defer to Derek more often, and he hardly ever makes outright demands; but sometimes he does, and every fiber of Derek screams for him to obey.

He practically vaults off the bed, almost tripping himself with his pants as he pushes them down and off his legs. He has his boxer-briefs off before he can think about it, remembering of where he is and who he’s with and immediately regretting going that far. But when he looks to Stiles, his eyes dark and glazed, skin beautifully flushed, and tongue flicking over his lips as he takes Derek in, well, he decides it didn’t hurt.

Stiles spreads his legs and Derek falls between them, heavily landing on top of Stiles, their mouths clacking together in another sloppy kiss. Stiles arches into him, causing friction that has them both groaning and panting into the other’s mouth. Stiles keeps his hands in familiar territory, the only thing that really gives away his shy hesitance, one gripping Derek’s shoulder, and the other wrapped and tugging in Derek’s hair. Derek reels himself in, turning messy kisses into deep, drugging ones that has Stiles’s heartbeat calming and his grip loosening.

Derek tugs gently and randomly at Stiles’s boxers until they finally get stuck on Stiles’s cock; he doesn’t bother pulling away from Stiles’s mouth, just distracts him with his tongue enough to get Stiles out and his boxers halfway down his thighs. Stiles gasps in a breath, muttering a tentative “Derek.”

Derek finally pulls away enough to finally rid Stiles of the rest of his clothes, stroking every piece of Stiles he sees; starting at his left calf, getting distracted by a side, and then an entire arm. “Shh. Stiles. I have you, you know nothing bad is going to happen.” He mutters this against Stiles’s chest, trailing kisses down the center before veering off to lick at a nipple.

Stiles whole body jerks under Derek, and Stiles lets out a surprised little “oh”. Derek licks again, running his teeth against the sensitive flesh, pulling out these beautiful little keens and moans from Stiles’s throat. It’s after Derek’s moved to the other side when Stiles twitches and digs his short nails in to the back of Derek’s neck gritting out a dirty, “Ok. Stop teasing. Let’s get with the program, yeah?” and moving his fingers up to tug harshly at Derek’s hair.

Derek rears back, letting out a little growl, sure his eyes flash red. He nips at Stiles’s chest to show him who’s supposed to be in charge in this, but reaches for the lube on the bedside table anyway. He’s wrapping his fingers around the cold bottle when he gets a better idea. He brings the bottle back with him, tucking it under himself, half for warmth and half for easier access, but he then shimmies his way further down Stiles’s body, Stiles watching him the whole time, a hint of a question beginning in his eyes. Stiles opens his mouth, probably to ask Derek what he’s doing, but maybe to demand Derek to “c’mon already”, but all he gets out is a choked off and strangled noise as Derek licks him from base to tip before swallowing down completely. 

Stiles lets out a high pitched keening sound at the first hint of suction, and a full out moan when Derek circles the head with his tongue. The way Derek sees it, is that Stiles is a virgin, it’s going to be hard to get him to relax. And if everything goes well, he could be off like a rocket, coming before it really goes anywhere. So Derek figures, if he comes once, he’ll be lose limbed and happy, sated enough for the second orgasm to stay at bay, and even feel better. Plus it’ll help him relax faster, and Derek can take his time opening him up and making him ready.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to come, like Derek expected. He lets out a long groan as he shoots in short spurts down Derek’s throat. Derek swallows it all, enjoying the taste purely because it’s Stiles, and works him through it, pulling off with little licks.

He pulls the bottle of lube out from under his hip, keeping it wrapped in his hand as he strokes Stiles thigh with the other. “Stiles.” Stiles has his eyes closed, a small content smile on his face, he lets out a low hum, letting Derek know he’s listening; Derek’s mouth quirks at the corners, but he doesn’t give in. He bends to kiss the happy smile Stiles has, though. He pulls back, face falling into seriousness. He doesn’t want to make this mechanical, so Stiles thinks it’s a mandatory thing that’s unenjoyable, but it is a pretty big deal. “I’m going to start opening you up, okay?” Stiles barely twitches, totally out of his mind with the still recent orgasm.

Derek takes that as a blessing and quickly coats a finger with the warmed liquid and spreading Stiles legs a little further. Stiles goes willingly and Derek sets to it fast, circling Stiles’s rim to check the resistance. There’s some there, but it’s to be expected, so Derek gently pushes inward, stopping with just the tip of his finger in. Stiles takes a deep breath, finally coming back to himself, so Derek pushes a little more, getting to the first knuckle. Stiles holds the breath for a long moment, then lets it out slowly, and Derek pushes the rest of the way in.

He stays there, letting Stiles subtly shift at the invasion. Derek takes a deep breath, pulling in Stiles scent (a little nervous, a little embarrassed, a little uncomfortable, but there’s a heady spice mixing in too), and pulls his finger out a little and pushing back in. “Okay?” His voice is quiet, and tender in a way he didn’t realize he felt. Stiles takes a breath and lets it out in a rush, opening his eyes to the ceiling, and nodding for Derek to continue.

Derek sets a slow rhythm, just one finger, wiggling and pulling until Stiles’s is loose enough to start another one pushing in. The second finger is definitely harder, Stiles tensing at the added pressure; but Derek rubs his thigh with his other hand and nudges carefully until Stiles’s muscle gives way.

He opens Stiles up so, so slowly. Working with two fingers until Stiles is panting, shaking violently at every press of fingers against his prostate, and a litany of pleases fall from his lips. He’s fully hard again, beads of bitter precome welling at his head, almost enough to drip onto his stomach. Derek’s put his own erection out of his mind, instead focusing on the arousal pouring off of Stiles, and the little half moans he makes, the cooling lube dripping down his palm and slowly covering his wrist.

Stiles arches as Derek accidentally ghosts over his prostate again, gasping and breathing out another heavy “please”. Derek scissors his fingers one more time, pulling out completely to add more lube and slick up another finger. He returns with three and Stiles gives easy, gripping his fingers and almost pulling them in. Derek swallows thickly, suddenly finding the heat of the room suffocating, and the sudden feeling of the heaviness of his cock bordering on painful.

He doesn’t focus on it though, still opening Stiles carefully, stretching his fingers and Stiles’s rim slowly; the movements so heavy it’s like Stiles’s muscles can’t help but obey, stay open and yielding. Derek tunes in to the babble coming from Stiles, a string of Derek’s and please’s. “You’re not ready, Stiles. I’m not hurting you.”

Stiles groans, throwing out an arm. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But seriously, Derek, you’ve been at this for almost an hour now. I’m going to explode if you don’t hurry your ass up, I swear.” He punctuates with a roll of his hips, pulling Derek’s fingers deeper and sharper, and a loud moan. “Please, Derek. I know you want it. You need it. I can smell your desperation.” He purrs, his voice a honey smooth rumble that Derek can’t quite deny. Derek’s not quite sure when Stiles became the more confident one here, but he can’t say he minds. If Stiles wants this, thinks he’s ready, who is he to deny him, really. Derek has been fingering him for a while, long enough that it shouldn’t hurt Stiles, at least not enough to feel guilty about.

Derek looks up, meeting Stiles’s dark eyes, Derek’s sure that if Stiles’s irises changed with the wolf they would be glowing, a bright, primal colour. Instead they’re the dark syrupy brown they always are, only bright with lust, and stubbornness. Derek makes a rumble deep in his chest, not quite a growl, but not really a purr either. Stiles grins in triumph, a smug edge to his mouth that has Derek tearing out his fingers and snatching the lube from the sheets. Stiles grunts at the sudden emptiness, but doesn’t stop smirking. He’s always known how to push Derek’s buttons, playing at his natural drive to make Stiles lose that smug undertone in his scent that’s filling Derek’s nose.

Derek’s on edge, and he’s ready to burst, but he’s not cruel and he’s not out of his mind just yet. He pours a generous amount of lube onto his dick, keeping his touch light as he spreads it, and then squirting a bit directly onto Stiles’s hole. Stiles meeps a little, but otherwise stays quiet as Derek positions himself between Stiles’s legs.

He looks at Stiles on more time, giving him a last chance to back out completely, but Stiles doesn’t take it. Instead, he pulls Derek down into a wet, and a little desperate, kiss, wrapping a leg around Derek’s hip and nudging him forward. Derek takes the hint, guiding himself forward until the head of his cock is resting at Stiles’s rim. Stiles’s lets out a small noise, pushing forward until he gets Derek’s cock to start squeezing in. He lets out a long exhale, wrapping his arms around Derek and relaxing into the pillows, his body silently telling Derek to keep going.

Derek eases in, almost too slowly, he can feel Stiles wanting him to move faster, to hurry up, but Derek can’t. He can’t let himself rush this, he wants to remember every detail, he wants it ingrained into his brain so he can still remember every hitch of breath, ever small moan and whimper, every bead of sweat, everything Stiles does, even when he’s too old to remember how to piss. But he’ll have this. He’s finally flush against Stiles’s ass, and they both give out a sigh of relief.

He waits, letting Stiles adjust, and to keep himself from coming right then. He buries his face into Stiles’s neck, inhaling his overwhelming arousal, tasting the salty quality of his sweaty skin, sinking into the hot softness of Stiles’s ass. Breathing and calming himself. Grounding himself in his mate.

Stiles hums, twining a hand into Derek’s hair and pulling at his shoulder with the other. “C’mon, Derek, move.”

Derek takes another deep breath and does as told, pulling out an inch or so before pushing back in. He repeats the motion, pulling out a tiny bit more each time, pushing harder until Stiles lets out a breathy pleased sound, not quite a moan but almost there. It convinces Derek Stiles’s finally ready, he starts thrusting, moving with a hard intent, angling his hips until Stiles coughs out a harsh sound, arching sharply into Derek.

Derek keeps his rhythm just above slow, but deep and at least brushing Stiles’s prostate every few thrusts. A warmth starts in Derek’s throat, sort of like drinking a cup of hot coffee, moving both up and down until it’s made a line right down the center of him from head to toe. He slows his thrusts further, biting at Stiles’s neck, sucking on all the skin he can reach as the bond solidifies between them.

“Derek,” Stiles is barely coherent, slurring his words and hardly getting in a breath. “Derek. Derek what is that? Do you feel that?” He gasps just as a buzzing explodes in the back of Derek’s head, like a colony of bees have made their home there.

Derek grunts, shoving into Stiles and staying there. “Bond.” He spits it out as he shifts, his claws gouging into the walls, and his canines elongating and grinding together. He can feel the sharp points of Stiles’s own claws barely breaking the skin of his shoulders. “The bond is completing.” 

It takes a few minutes of harsh breathing and an uncomfortable tingling in the base of their skulls, but it finally quiets, the room seeming to still completely. There’s nothing. No buzzing, no warmth, nothing. Stiles swallows and wraps his arms tighter around Derek’s shoulders. “So. So does that officially make you mine?”

It’s timid and unsteady, and Derek _shakes_.

Derek growls into Stiles’s neck, at his insecurity, and at the owning words. “Yes. And you’re mine.” He can feel the possessiveness creeping up, the need to claim Stiles, so everyone knows he’s no longer available, making its way into his mind. He pulls out and thrusts sharply, Stiles seemed to have forgotten and arches up making a stunned sound.

Stiles gasps as Derek sets a new fast rhythm, digging his human nails in and _clawing_ down Derek’s back. “Yeah. Yeah, all yours.”

It’s all it takes to have Derek officially pounding into Stiles. The need to claim outweighing the careful control he had before. He bites at Stiles’s lips, his neck, his chest and shoulders, thrusting sharp and deep, reaching a hand to down to pull at Stiles’s cock when he feels his own orgasm cresting. Stiles lets out a harsh breath, spitting out a “fuck” before he’s coming all over himself and Derek, the sensation suddenly _tearing_ its way through Derek’s own mind.

The little air in Derek’s lungs punches out of him as he comes, the feedback loop from Stiles throwing him over that steep edge. He pulls out, so the last ropes of come lands on Stiles’s twitching stomach, mixing with Stiles’s own release. Stiles lets out a small whimper, body twitching violently, feeling the phantom of Derek’s own orgasm, making him feel overstimulated.

Derek all but collapses on top of Stiles, hearing the air woosh out of his mate’s lungs. He mumbles sorry, well, it was supposed to be sorry, coming out mostly as “sorghyl”. Stiles runs a hand from Derek’s hair to the small of his back, petting him as they catch their breath. Derek stays there, on top and inside of Stiles for as long as possible, but he starts feeling itchy, so he carefully pulls out and falls onto his side. He reaches over Stiles and onto the floor, picking up his shirt to clean his and Stiles stomachs off, and tossing it back when he’s done.

Stiles takes a deep breath, turning over and looking at Derek, his eyes looking pleased but uncertain, and it kills Derek. He lets out something he’ll always deny was a whine and pulls Stiles close, kissing his lips, forehead, cheeks and chin. Burying his face into Stiles neck and the slowly fading marks he left. He can hear Stiles let a deep sigh go, reveling in the feel of Stiles’s long fingers slipping into his hair again.

He pulls Stiles close, kicking the comforter up until he can tuck it around them when Stiles starts shivering. He runs his own fingers through Stiles’s hair, tangling up their legs and molding them so close it’s hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. He can feel a soft, warm, homey feeling clouding his mind. It should freak him out that he feels so comfortable with a strange presence slipping through his consciousness and making him tired, but he can’t bring himself to care. He clutches at Stiles as he sleeps, listens to him breathe, feels the heat radiate from his skin, and lets out a soft declaration. The cloud of warmth gets heavier, seeming to get sweeter, and Derek sleeps.

*****

Derek wakes up with the same content feeling he felt when he fell asleep. He curls into it, sliding his hand up Stiles back to feel him shiver. He smiles lazily, allowing himself to slip back into that heavy in between part of sleep and awake. He hears Stiles make a small sound and pries his eyes open to find his mate staring at him, a quiet grin across at his stupidly pink lips. Derek hums, pulling Stiles flush against his chest. “Why are you so smiley this morning, hm?” His voice is a gravely, sleepy mess, but Derek can feel Stiles’s grin stretch a little more at it anyway.

Stiles takes a little while to respond, almost letting Derek fall back to sleep before answering a quiet, “’m just happy, that’s all.” And Derek can feel it. Recognizes the hazy warm feeling to be Stiles’s happiness, his contentment. Derek sends it all back, hoping Stiles can feel how happy and content he is too. Feel his love.

Stiles makes that same small sound as before. “I know, Derek. I know.” Whispers it into Derek’s neck, as he wraps an arm over Derek’s side. “Go back to sleep.”

Derek drops a few kisses onto Stiles head, burying his face into Stiles’s bed mussed hair, and like the night before, obeys his mate’s command.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Title Credit: _Wolf_ (how fitting), by Now, Now. *I actually think _Wolf_ is a good song for the whole Derek/Stiles relationship here. :)*
> 
> Ok, so like, this isn't even what I planned on writing and updating with... this is just porn I woke up one day and thought "I'm gonna write that bonding scene today." and decided it was good idea. And two days later and here we are! Y'know, this is my first time venturing into the slash porn territory. I feel like it chewed me up and spit me back out. But I don't think it's _horrible_ for my first time. :) So please don't judge too hard, yes? It's about _feelings_. Focus on the _feelings_.  
>  Also, maybe this porn is a nice little offering for my long absence and continued absence after this because I still have no motivation to write any angst? Maybe? Yes?
> 
> I still do not own Teen Wolf. I probably still won't, even at the end of this series. Which is totally ok with me. I'm fine with playing with other people's toys and returning them a little worse for wear. :)
> 
> So, um, enjoy and don't hate me? *hopeful puppy eyes*
> 
> OH OH ONE MORE THING! Um, in case it was a little unclear, and I'm sure it was because my brain knows wassup so what it gets from certain things, you might not. So um, as a preliminary thing, the bond, when first achieved, is kind of touch and go for the first few days, it flits in and out and isn't constant like it seems in the other parts. Aaand at the end, the warm, home feeling Derek feels is Stiles happiness and contentment. It's leaking through the bond, and he doesn't realize at first because he's not sure what he's supposed to feel. And the "declaration" he makes is "I love you" and the reason the feeling gets stronger is because Stiles still hears him and it makes him happier. Ok. Is that clear? Are there any questions?
> 
> (also, I went back through and added three words to make it an even 4000 *cackles*)


End file.
